Half An Angel
by badfanfictionaire
Summary: Sam and Dean have a new addition to their small family, and she's something they never saw coming...
1. First Encounters

I remember that week's events as if they were etchings on my retinas that I couldn't remove, a constant film reel before my eyes.

Mom died in my arms, scratched up and bloodied from that _thing_.

That meant I was alone, orphaned.

The police said my father was dead.

The only people left out his next of kin were two brothers I'd never known.

* * *

"So you never met dad?" Sam's voice was gentle and understanding.

"No, I was the result of a one night fling my mom regretted her whole life. She knew there was another woman, Kate, and that my father had a son just a year old..."

"Adam, yeah, we know." Dean was gruff, not interested in knowing my story, wanting me gone.

"So when she found out she was pregnant she kept it to herself. But now she's gone and... You're the only people left I can turn to. I'm sorry to bust in like this but I'm only 18 and I don't have any place to go..."

"We're going to help you any way we can Addison, I promise," Sam looked at me, genuine, and then at Dean, coaxing him to agree.

"Look we can't just take you in, okay? We don't even know you and we're on the move a lot, not a place for kiddies."

I glanced at Sam looking for some sort of reassurance and then threw in my final plea, "Firstly, it's Addy, and ... I think I can help you."

"Help us? You're a twiggy under aged girl, you cannot help us."

I breathed in deeply and replied, "Yes, I can. I'm ... Half angel."

* * *

Sam and Dean looked like they'd been run over by the Impala, but they regained composure pretty fast, they always do. That's something I've come to understand about my brothers.

And since it's been a month since all that happened there's a lot about these two that I've learned.

I'm the little sister they never wanted or knew they had, but now I'm here to stay.


	2. Time Will Tell

I guess I should give you a little information about myself before I start sharing my life events. That may answer some questions about me now, instead of having to hash them out later on. Because ultimately this story is about my life _now. _Now that I'm a hunter, now that I have a whole new family.

First and foremost, my name is Addison Hall, but I go by Addy. I'm five foot two and skinny (but not in a way that boys like or anything, more in the "I have no curves and no boobs and I look like a twelve year old boy" kind of way). I'm eighteen years old. I have blondish hair that I keep shoulder length with bangs. And, like my mom, I have big green eyes. My one redeeming feature.

Until recently I lived in Nebraska with my mother, Callie Hall. I was an only child, and all I knew about my dad was that he wasn't much of one. I didn't even know his name, John Winchester, until my mom was ripped to shreds by a feasting rougarou.

Then the story unfolded about my dad and how he'd slept with my mom twice and she'd gotten pregnant the second time. But there was another woman John was in love with, who already had a son by him (my other brother Adam, who is currently stuck in Lucifer's cage (but that's a story for later)).

And before her was Mary, John's wife, who had died by the hand of a demon. She had my two other brothers, Sam and Dean, who I now "live with". (I say that because our living situation is a crappy motel here and there and the back seat of the impala when we're on the road. Sammy always gets shotgun.)

Secondly (and here's the kicker), I'm half angel. It's really odd, I know, but I guess my mom was a vessel at the time she got pregnant (John didn't even know, somehow), and so here I am. I know all of this because I pick up angel chatter at all hours of the day. It's like having a walkie-talkie built into your brain. It started as soon as I turned three. Suddenly I was getting message to all these different people _in my head_. I never told anyone about it because I thought I was crazy, but one day a message came for me. It simply said "don't be afraid, Addison, you are more powerful than you will ever comprehend, but because of this, you must be brave."

It was a soothing man's voice, which I now recognize as Joshua, and since that day I've been aware constantly of what else I can do besides intercept angel chatter.

I can move things, small things of course, with my mind.

I can locate people without a tracking device and get directions without a GPS.

I can read foreign languages without having to use a translator.

And I know spells and sigils and omens like nobody's business, and no one even taught me.

Best of all I know when others are in danger or upset and _I can stop it_. I have an uncanny ability to heal and protect. Which, is why before my mom died, I wanted to become a military doctor. I figured I would be pretty good at it and my celestial talents would come in handy for everyone involved.

But now whatever money my mom saved up for my college fund is going to go toward food, gas money, motels, and clothes. Life is completely different now, and somehow I'm okay with that. I think what I can do will help Sam and Dean save the world's ass when needed. Not to mention they're family, so I am almost obliged to help them.

I can't quite tell if they fully accept me yet, but I'm hoping someday this shrimpy girl can worm her way into their hearts. I guess only time will tell.


	3. Trust

Sometimes late at night Sam has nightmares. And not the usual kind about monsters under the being or being naked at school. His are far worse. He has nightmares about killing innocent people, again and again. It absolutely terrifies him, and I can feel it. I know that sounds weird, but it's true. I feel emotions like other people can feel fleece or a dish towel.

Emotion comes with a mixture of very specific textures and temperatures. For example, Sam's nightmares are the texture of wood splinters. The snag and tear and dig in. Each one stings like a son of a bitch as it pokes into the dermis and starts to suppurate. It burns.

Dean has daydreams about losing a stranger, a beautiful woman named Lisa, and her quiet son Ben. His emotions go cold like putting your bare feet on a tile floor in the winter. An achy blistering cold that makes you pull away. The skin sticks to the cold surface, and it tears. Tears well in your eyes.

I want to help them but I'm afraid they'll misunderstand my intentions. They have too much pride to let a girl they hardly know syphon away their pains. On top of that I don't have the nerve to tell them I can see their dreams. How creepy does that sound?

_"Oh by the way Dean, I know all about Lisa… I can see it in your dreams..."_ he would probably deny it all and kick me out. I wonder if Sam even knows about her. He's never asked about them; in fact I'm not even sure they're real people.

More often than not Dean ignores the fact that I'm tagging along with them. He's quiet when I'm around and just stares at me, like he's uncomfortable. Sam will talk to me and ask me how I'm doing but part of me still thinks he's not sure how to handle me either. Twice I've tried to talk him into letting me go with them on a hunt but they will not let me go. They say I can't be trusted with a gun and that there's no reason for me to put myself in danger.

Once, after they said no, I hot-wired a car and followed them to the scene. They didn't know it, I just watched quietly from afar. It was a vampire. She'd just been turned and couldn't stop herself from feeding. They had to end it. Dean was stone faced when they came outside but I could tell he wasn't okay. Sam looked distressed but he never let Dean see him waiver. Later that night I heard him quietly crying in his sleep. He tries to be unemotional for Dean's sake, but it eats him inside. I wish he could see the violent emotions rushing in the pit of Dean's stomach when they get home from a case, chased farther down with a bottle of Whiskey.

I will figure out how to help them, I will, but I just have to get them to trust me.


	4. A Start in the Right Direction

"Does it ever bother you that you're the oldest and yet Sam is taller than you?"

We're sitting in the impala, Sam just ran into the library to take out a book on Indian mythology.

"Are you trying to be annoying or are you ignorant of how annoying you are?"

"I'm just asking, you know, small talk…"

"I don't do small talk sister." The 'sister' part of that statement comes out funny because he realizes a little too late that I _am_ his sister.

"I can tell," I stare at him for a moment, then turn and look out the window. We can play the silent game if he wants to.

"Look… I'm…" He sighed and flipped the radio on.

"It's okay," I mutter back, "You don't have to pretend you feel bad for being rude."

"Well I shouldn't be rude, we're family now. Family is important. I just don't know how much I trust you."

I can tell this is awkward for him to say. His emotions feel like invisible spiders crawling around on bare skin. "You don't have to trust me," I say, "Trust has to be earned, I get that."

"So this whole…. being half angel thing, is it true? Or are you just bullshitting us?"

"I can show you," Now I know what the real issue is, he thinks I'm a liar.

"I don't know if I like the sounds of that. Cas has all these weird angel quirks too, but usually they involve probing people's souls or zapping them to the 1940s."

Cas is Dean and Sam's full blooded angel friend. He's pretty cool, he can teleport, but his people skills are a little…. rusty.

"Can you do any of that stuff or is it different?"

"Well, to be honest, I have no idea. I haven't gotten a full lesson or anything on being an angel. I just know I can do a few things most people can't."

"Care to be more specific?"

"Roll up your sleeve." I know last night he came back from a fight with a few demons and one bashed his arm into a metal railing. There was bound to be a bruise.

"Excuse me?"

"I can heal things, roll up your sleeve. I can heal bruises."

He stared at me, narrowing his eyes, but he did what I said. I placed my hand gently over his skin and closed my eyes. Everything in my mind flashed white for a moment, and my own skin felt like it was burning hot. For a moment there was an intense pain in my lower right forearm, and then it was over. I opened my eyes. "See?"

He looked at his arm and poked at it for a second, "What the Hell…."

"Not lying, see?"

"So you can heal people, and what else exactly?"

"I have a crazy good sense of direction and I can also predict and stop impeding danger. And I may or may not be able to read dreams and feel other people's emotions…."

"Well that's not massively creepy or anything…"

"It proves I'm not a liar though… You don't have to be my biggest fan, but can we at least be friendly?"

"Addison… I just… This isn't a life anyone should have, okay? I can't even understand why you came looking for me and Sam. We're literally impending danger ourselves, didn't your spidey senses tell you that?"

"First, it's Addy. No one ever calls me Addison. And secondly, _it's okay_. I can handle this crazy life. You don't have to protect me, if anything let me protect you once in a while."

"Sam and I are all we have, it's rough. I mean, if you lose us you're back at square one. So I guess I just feel like you're better off not with us."

"Family is family. If I lose you, either way if I'm with you or not, I won't be any better off emotionally. You two are all _I_ have."

He nodded, staring out the windshield. I felt the awkward spiders coming back. "Just promise me… That you'll be careful. Okay, Ad?"

I tried not to beam too widely. Before I could answer Sam slid back into the car, book in hand.

"We ready to roll?"

"Took you long enough gigantor," Dean grumbled, winking at me in the rear-view. So it did bother him that Sam was taller, good to know.

"I think we're going to have to work this case under cover," Sam said, clicking his seat belt in place as Dean pulled away from the curb. "And I also think this might be a good one for Addy to tag along on, we might be able to use her, uh, angel skills."

"Yeah, why not."

"Sound okay with you?" Sam turned in his seat to look at me.

I nodded, trying not to seem too eager, and he gave me a quick nod of approval.

It seemed like an impossible feat at first, but I was on my way to befriending my big brothers. And being invited on a hunt? Well, that was definitely a start in the right direction.


	5. Not the Mom

I tried really hard to suppress how excited I was to be going on my first hunt with Sam and Dean. In the bathroom I adjusted the jet black wig so it fully covered my hair and took a step back. The slinky cocktail dress wasn't like anything I usually wore, but we were going into a big room full of really rich people tonight so I had to look the part. The dead guy Sam and Dean had found last week, dismembered and half eaten, was the son of a billionaire in Chicago. And his daddy was having a big 'ole rendezvous with some coworkers to celebrate a new business venture tonight, so if we wanted all the details we had to go. I heard a light tap on the door and turned around. "Ad, you all set? We've gotta go in less than a hot second or we're going to be late."

I opened the door and squelched my smile as best I could. Dean and Sam are really quite handsome when they need to be. "Yeah, all set."

Sam stashed a handgun in a little sliver shoulder bag and handed it to me, "For emergencies only."

I grinned and nodded, "Obviously."

* * *

The car ride to the party smelled like too much cologne, but I didn't care. I was finally getting to do something with my big brothers, and something important too. "So when we get there divide and conquer. Sam you're looking for the depressed wife. Ad, the macho big brother. And I'm on daddy duty."

"Doesn't it strike anyone as odd that their still having the event even after their son turns up dead?"

Leave it to Sam to bring up a good and possibly dangerous point while we're on the way…

"I'm sure it's because they know something we don't, Sammy. Just like every other time some rich guy's son dies, it was probably a bargain with a crossroads demon."

* * *

"So have you ever had an appletini before?" The guy who was looming too close into my face had wine breath and long stringy hair. His suit was two sizes too big, so even though it was obviously an expensively made one, it looked terrible on him.

I looked over at Sam who was getting his ear chatted off by an older blond woman who'd had too much work done to look her age.

The guy next to me stuck a piece of hair behind my ear, trying to be cute, but it was just uncomfortable. "So how is that guy related to you again?" He glanced over where I was looking.

"He's my uncle."

"It looks like my step mom is all over your uncle, he better be careful."

Step mom? Dean hadn't said anything about her being a step mom before…. "I'm sure he can hold his own."

"You know it's really weird, you don't look anything like either of your uncles. Wait, are your uncles married to each other?"

It was true, I didn't look like them. Not even without the very fake jet black bobbed wig I was wearing. My light blond hair stood out like a sore thumb when compared to my Winchester relatives. Not to mention I was much fairer skinned than they were. Dean looks like his mom, the green eyes and lighter hair, the shorter stature too. Sam looks like John, brown eyes and dark hair, taller in nature. But they each take qualities from the other parent too. Sam's hair is wavier like Mary's was. And Dean has more of John's facial structure…

I suddenly tuned back into what the guy was saying only to catch the last few words of what might have been an important tip. "Johnny looked like my mom, you know…"

"Do you miss him? Your brother?"

He shrugged. I kicked myself for not hearing his whole sentence. "I'm going to go grab something to drink, want anything?"

He nodded and I made my way over to the punch bowl. Dean saw me start to walk over and followed suit, I saw him ask the father if he wanted a beverage.

"So get this," I told him after he slide over next to me, "The mom Sam's talking to? Not the mom. She's the step mom."

Dean started to laugh.

"What? What did I say that was funny?"

"Nothing, you just need to stop taking speech lessons from Sam."

The joke was lost on me but I assumed I'd figure it out someday.


	6. Valium

Suddenly everything around me came to a screeching halt. Well, not literally, but in my head.

_"I can't stand to think I've missed an opportunity here…." The shuffle of something in a pocket, something small and cylindrical… "Why don't we go somewhere a little more private?"_

"Dean we've got to get Sam out of there," the bustle of the room slipped back into my mind but I kept my senses honed in on the step mother's voice.

"What? Why? He looks fine; I don't even think she knows anything."

"I can hear her," I said urgently.

"Yeah, so? So can everyone else nearby."

"No I can hear what she's saying but I can also hear what she's _going to do_."

"What does that even mean?"

I tried not to roll my eyes, now was not the time to be explaining this, "I think she's going to drug him, I can hear the pill bottle in her pocket and she just asked him to go somewhere more private."

Dean looked at me like I had something stuck on my face and then grabbed my arm and dragged me over to Sam. "Henry, we have to leave a little early."

"I'm not feeling so well, I feel a bout of nausea coming on," I lied.

The step mother's lips pressed firmly together and her eyes narrowed at me. Pleasantly she said, "Well that's such a shame, Henry and I were just going to go somewhere a little more quiet to… discuss selling Jonathan's collection."

Her emotions were writhing around me, filled with quick thinking and deceit. Deceit tends to have a similar feeling to motion sickness or severe congestion, either way it is really unpleasant.

"Well we really should be going," I pressed again.

"I can meet you back at the house," Sam suggested, testing the situation.

"No we really should go together," Dean insisted, taking me by the arm and preparing to leave.

Sam opened his mouth as if to start saying his adieu to the woman and she set a firm hand on his shoulder, "Stay, please, I can have Tony drive them home so you can take your own car later. We were just getting to the good details, Henry."

_We need to go_. My mind throbbed, I could hear her shuffling the pills in her pocket so much more clearly now. It was one of those small travel vials with a simple screw on lid. There were maybe one or two capsules inside, they sounded round in shape.

Sam's face bunched up and he slid out from her touch, "No, but thank you for the offer. I really should go with them."

As we started to walk away I felt her eyes boring into my back. Her emotions went from deceit to hatred and back.

"How did you… how did you do that?" Sam said under his breath as we walked out the doors and passed the valet.

"Do what?" I breathed back, smiling at the valet who was handing Dean the keys.

"Warn me, about the pills?"

"I didn't… I didn't say anything about the pills. I just knew she had them, what are you talking about?"

"I kept seeing this little white bottle with a hefty dose of Valium in it, and then you were telling me we had to go but I never saw you actually say anything… Are you a ventriloquist?"

"No, I'm not. Sam I have no idea what you're talking about. I could hear the pill bottle in her pocket and I could almost make out what shape they were, but that was all in my head. And I never saw them. It's one of my skills, being able to sense danger. But I never actually… I never said a word about it. I only told Dean I thought she was going to drug you, but I never said it out loud to you."

"I'm telling you, I could see the pills in the bottle like you had a mini camera in her pocket. They were generic Valium pills, the little blue ones, and in a travel vial. And I swear I heard you telling me we needed to go…"

"This whole angel this is too freaking weird…" Dean grumbled, sliding into the passenger's side. We'd rented a black Mercedes for the night and he agreed to let Sam drive home because it wasn't the Impala so it didn't really matter.

"Dean, what just happened back there? That was great, what she did. We can really use someone with skills like this. Not to mention we know she's got our best interest in mind because she's our sister," he crammed himself behind the wheel as he spoke, and I climbed into the back seat still feeling a bit off from our recent run in with a possible murder.

"Alls I know is, yes, she just saved your ass, but by the same token she can just as easily _not_ save our asses."

Like I would ever do that, yeesh...


	7. Photogenic Spirits

"Okay so Laura Premonte, thirty five, one ex-husband, currently married to Dave Premonte, born in Santa Monica... Says here she had a son that died in a car accident in 1994 named Henry, no other biological children."

Sam placed the stack of papers on the fold up table in the middle of the motel room and sighed, "We have nothing to go on, I mean the kid's body was destroyed, ruthlessly, but not by a slim forty year old woman in heels."

"Yeah we're looking for something a bit bigger," Dean replied dryly, "Like rampaging hyenas on cocaine bigger."

"I don't think it was her," I said, "At least not just her. But I get the feeling she was in on it. She and the father."

"What makes you say that?" Sam looked at me eagerly awaiting a reply. I didn't know how to phrase what I was going to say though.

"It's... Just a gut feeling."

"A gut feeling?" Dean scoffed, "You want us to act on a gut feeling?"

"Dean..." Sam's expression made Dean quiet, but he still glared at me disapprovingly.

"Okay I don't know how to explain this, but I can sense danger, right? And sometimes, well pretty rarely, I can sense past dangers. When I was taking to the brother, every time he mentioned his dad or his step mom there was this little hint of a past damage done. Like he knew something."

"The kids brother just died, Addy, I think that's the damage done."

"That's what I thought too, but the woman I kept sensing wasn't the step mom, so that threw me off a little. There was this urgency like the woman was running out of time..."

"None of this is adding up," Sam grumbled, "I mean when we first looked at this case I was convinced that Johnny got messed up in some ritual gone wrong but that lead went nowhere."

"We need to look at this from another perspective," Dean got up and started pacing.

"Well what else do we know?" Sam started thumbing through the pile of stuff on the table and stopped when he picked up a photo from a newspaper. "Hey, look at this… in the corner there. What is that?"

I peeked at the photo and looked to where he was pointing. It was a photo cut out from a newspaper, it showed the crowd that had formed around Johnny's body when it was discovered. In the top corner there was this smudgy grey spot that kind of looked like a face.

"I have no idea," Dean sighed, "It looks like some idiot had a thumb print on their camera lens when they took the photo."

"May I?" I took the paper from Sam and held it up so the ceiling light was shining through it. "That's definitely a silhouette of someone."

"So we've got a photogenic spirit, a dead kid, and a murderous step mom, great," Dean muttered sarcastically, "This is all just making so much friggin sense…"


	8. Early Risers

We decided to take a break for the night but the very next morning I heard Sam rummaging around the room, beginning to work.

I didn't want him to think he woke me up so I waited a little bit until he had settled into a chair and started reading before I got up.

"You're up early," Sam commented, setting his papers down.

"I don't really sleep much," I responded, sitting across from him.

"Don't need to or don't?"

I hadn't really ever told anyone but at night the angel chatter was the worst. My mind was still so it got overrun with the messages freely floating across the airwaves. So, in essence, sleep wasn't a restful experience. "More like… I just really can't that much."

"I used to get nightmares, they would keep me up all night tossing and turning… Anyway, it's not healthy not to sleep, you should work on that."

Liar liar, he still got nightmares and they still kept him awake, but I'd never say anything. "It's one of those celestial side effects; it's not a big deal."

He nodded and went back to reading. "So did you know you could transfer visions to people?"

The question caught me off guard and I had to think about it before responding. "Honestly, no. But am I surprised? Not really."

"So yesterday was the first time that happened?"

"I mean, I can't actually see what they're thinking or doing, I can only hear it and envision it from my senses. I don't know how I showed you."

Sam was quiet for a while, sifting through the information and occasionally scribbling something down on a notepad. Then randomly he said, "You know if you ever want out of this, you're welcome to go. We can set you up at a safe house and you can get back to having friends and being a teenager and whatever. You know that right?"

I tried not to laugh, "Um… Just what exactly makes you think I have all these friends I can go clamoring back to? I lived in the middle of nowhere with my mom in a one person apartment. I slept on the recliner in the kitchen. None of the kids at school ever wanted to come hang out at my house because it was so small. I wasn't Miss Popular by any means. I don't have a lot to go back to, and at this point I've already missed graduation so…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… You just strike me as someone who would have a lot of friends, that's all."

What was that supposed to mean?

"Like, you're empathetic and you seem like you have your wits about you."

"I guess people didn't see it that way. There was this one guy, Luke, we hung out a lot but he moved last year and that was kind of the end of it." I felt my voice waiver a little but when I told him about Luke but I remained as composed as possible. He was still a bit of a sore subject, but Sam didn't need to know that.

"Did this Luke guy mean anything to you, or was he just a friend?"


	9. Connections

It wasn't that I didn't want Sam to know anything about Luke, it just didn't feel like he mattered anymore. So when he asked if Luke meant something more to me I lied a little and said "Just a friend."

Sam nodded and got up, "Fair enough… Wanna get some coffee?"

His casualness about the conversation was relieving, usually people pry and try to get more out of you. I nodded gratefully and got up, "Should we wake him?"

"Dean? No, don't bother. He will wake up when we get back, the smell of coffee is his alarm clock of choice these days."

* * *

On the way back from the coffee shop I was doing my darnedest not to invade Sam's daydreams but with just the two of us there it was difficult to draw myself out and elsewhere.

At one point I giggled and he just sort of tilted his head at me like a German Shepard.

"I'm sorry," I stammered, embarrassed.

"For?"

"Er, um... Daydreams sort of count as dreams and I can kind of read those, I mean only sometimes... I'm really sorry but it's just us and..."

"So what was funny then?"

"The barista, I can't believe you were into the barista!"

"She was really attractive, sorry I'm entitled to thinking that."

"You know..." I stopped mid-sentence not knowing if I should open my mouth, but decided Sam was deserving of knowing, "She was into you too."

"Oh really?"

Lust has a feeling like peppery food tingling in the back of your throat. It kind of lingers and has a warm sensation. "Yeah, I mean she wasn't like fawning but there was attraction."

"She kept looking away from me, I thought she was uninterested." Sam kind of laughed like he was actually having a good time with this conversation. It was nice to hear because I always felt like he was depressed a lot.

"To be honest, well I don't know if you want to know this."

"No come on," he replied, "You've got to spill all the details!"

"She kept looking away because she was trying not to reach out and do that stupid classic movie thing."

He snorted and looked at me like I was losing it, "What does that even mean?"

"In like every boy meets girl movie the guy like brushes a stray hair from the girl's face and then he's all like surprised when she makes eye contact."

"Whoa whoa whoa, say what now? She was about to pull a romance film move on me? But I was the chick?"

I burst out laughing unintentionally. "Don't look at me it was all in her head."

He subconsciously shuffled his hair out of his face and sighed, "You're making that up aren't you?"

"Why would I make up something like that?"

He was quiet for a while but as we pulled into the parking lot he looked over at me and said quietly, "You know, if that guy, Luke, means anything to you at all, you should probably do everything you can to forget you know him. In this life…. Let's just say it's hard, anything or anyone you've ever loved is suddenly leverage for those... monsters out there."

"Don't worry about it," I sighed, "He's not attached to me anymore, in anyway. We ended any connection we had, so really, don't worry."

He nodded and we both got out of the car. On the way back into the motel he glanced back over at me and said, "So you weren't shitting me about the barista?"

I almost choked laughing but I managed to shake my head no. "Of course not," the poor girl was doing her very best to control herself but she was totally into him. "She kept thinking to herself that you had such nice eyes and she was so lusting over you."

I saw a sliver of a smile wash over his face and he shuffled his hair from eyes again, holding the door open for me. "Don't tell Dean any of this or I swear I will kick your scrawny ass."

I smiled and winked at him, walking into the room I noted Dean was wide awake.

_ "So Dean, guess what…"_


	10. ACDC and The Coffee Girl

**Author's Note: I apologize for not updating in so long, I've been super busy and I was sick for like a month straight, so I'm just now getting back into the swing of things. Hopefully I will be able to make at least bi-weekly posts now! Thanks for waiting, enjoy!**

It's been a month but Sam still gets embarrassed if Dean or I bring up the coffee girl.

We figured out the case pretty shortly after our little rendezvous at the party with the dead guy's family. As it turns out the father had been making some pretty shady deals to get his business going, and two of them had wound up killing his ex-wife and then his son. Somehow, selling them to a Pagan god for better profits seemed morally okay. The stepmother, while a bitch, wasn't really in on the deal until things started to go south and the dad needed another contender to pull some strings with the company's board of directors.

Once we'd solved the case Sam was eager to get on the road, to get out of that town and away from _her_, so we'd stop teasing. Dean was eager too because keeping Sam busy helps keep him grounded, whatever that means. Something about having had a spell with Lucifer himself and having a tough time with reality for a while, I decided not to ask.

Dean doesn't say it but he likes to keep busy because it keeps the guilt away. He stops feeling that "I ate too much starch" feeling, swelling in his gut. Guilt is kind of like that, only you feel like the starchy foods are pressing down into your soul somehow, like the two extra pounds you gained are going straight into your emotional pit and crushing you. It really sucks, but distractions keep you from throwing up. It's hard for me to pin point exactly what Dean feels guilty about, because again he doesn't share, but a lot of the time it's just that he feels bad for dragging Sam into the whole hunting thing in the first place. From what I can tell it wasn't his fault, dad disappeared and Dean got freaked out. So, normally, he ran for the only other family he had: Sam. He didn't want to be alone so he asked for help, and it just worked out that Sam got stuck doing the one thing he never wanted to do...

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Addy doesn't like AC/DC either, so you're out numbered?" Sam asked Dean, breaking my train of thought.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I don't care?" Dean grunted in reply, turning up 'Back in Black' just a bit more. "House rules, Sammy."

Sam turned and looked at me, "Any input?"

"Not getting involved," I quipped.

Sam rolled his eyes and turned back around, leaning back in his seat and stretching his legs out a bit.

Dean winked at me in the rearview and turned up the music a little, he was smiling but there was just an inkling of that starchy feeling in his gut. I wished there was a way I could tell him not to feel bad, that Sam was okay with all of this, and that I was okay with all of it too. But there was a slim chance I'd convince him. For now it seemed I was just going to have to get used to that transmitted feeling of stocking up on too many mashed potatoes, and try to blow it all away with a little classic rock.


	11. Good Vibes & Nice Ties

"This suit or this suit?" Dean asked holding up two hangers of outfits.

I nodded toward the one on the left, a dark grey suit, and picked up an emerald color tie from the pile. "This will go well," I added.

I've never seen a photo of Mary before but I imagine she's where Dean got the green eyes from. It wasn't from dad, that's for sure, Sam is the only one out of the three of us that got the big brown puppy dog eyes from him. Not that dad ever used the puppy dog eyes trick, he was too much of a hard ass for that.

"You sure you're up for this case?" Dean asked nonchalantly, but I could sense empathy in the air, he knew this case might sting a little. It was a rougarou, one that had attacked a little girl in Milwaukee. Mom had died from a rougarou, but I wasn't scared, I knew how to kill them now. Sam had let me read all the info they had on them, so I could be prepared for this hunt.

I nodded and changed the subject, "Are you positive you'd rather apple pie to blueberry?"

"Absolutely, and don't change the subject on me. I have to know your head is in the right place before we go in."

"Don't get Dean started on the subject of pie," Sam said walking into the room. He was dressed in a black suit with a navy tie, a good choice, and for once he hadn't tried to flatten his hair down with too much gel. He already didn't look like a top rank FBI agent, but the gel made it far worse as far as I was concerned.

I have an annoying habit of wanting people to look their best even though I don't hold myself to that standard. It's probably because I can feel how other people feel toward them, and I want it to be a positive response. Whether or not you can sense emotions, I know you can feel "vibes" from others, and of course I want the people closest to me to get good vibes.

"You look nice, Addy," Sam said handing me a handbag with my very own knife in it. They had gotten it for me as a birthday present last month, it was silver with all sorts of banishing symbols and so forth carved into it. "I stuck a bottle of holy water in there, and a bottle of lighter fluid."

"Thanks and thanks," I replied. You kill rougarous with fire. You have to burn them. My stomach twisted. Part of me was a bit uneasy with having to burn a person alive, but I was going to have to remember that rugaroos aren't people anymore when you burn them.


End file.
